Joelle

What I'd Been Told

The air chilled, like the Earth was being lowered into a bowl of ice. The wind—which, moments before, had been warm as a pillow—cut around me, biting into me, suddenly laced with razor-toothed knives. I looked up to see a dark cloud covering the sun, crossing it out, a black crayon dragged back and forth by an unforgiving child. I’d watched the cloud approach from miles away, black as the smoke from a burning city. The day had been bright and warm; now, everything around me was tinged with purple lead.

The first heavy drops started falling, smacking and splashing against my cheeks, tangible tears. More and more drops followed, until I could hardly see for the rain, until pulling my sweater around me did nothing. It rained like it did in the movies—except I knew that, in movies, the rain wasn’t actually water and was instead milk so the cameras could pick up on it. This wasn’t Hollywood. This was real life, and these were just genuine, cold, tasteless raindrops. I tipped my head back and opened my mouth. My mother used to tell me not to do that. Every rain drop has a grain of dirt inside it, she would say. I didn’t care, at this point. The rain soaked me to the bone, the filth embedding itself into my very skin. And I didn’t care.

The wind whipped and whirled around me now, making me its slave. I sat down, into the mud, not caring how dirty it made me or how frigid I would become. I was already dirty and cold and nothing could change that. Why not embrace it? Love yourself, I’d been told. Did this count as loving myself? Grabbing fistfuls of muddy grass, letting the rain run down my scalp, shivering as it trickled down my neck…surrounding myself in all things miserable…keeping myself where no one could reach me. Did it count?

Lightning flashed, a cut ragged around the edges, a temporary traumatism across the dark sky. Thunder crackled and rippled as soon as the lightning had gone, and I thought I could almost feel the earth shaking underneath me. I thought I could almost taste the trembling beads of angst that filled the air around me. I laid back, hoping that if I took in too much, I’d be released. If I grabbed for more than I could handle, I’d simply…not. Not handle; not be. Not think. I would become the storm, and the storm would become me, and no one would notice or care.

The storm passed quickly. It seemed to only last a few minutes, as most horrendous things do. In the scheme of the universe, how long does pain last? How long does losing a loved one hurt? Seconds. Mere seconds and nothing more.

All of a sudden, sunshine was kissing my face. I was still drenched, but I didn’t feel cold.

My hands were still covered in mud, clotting and gritty in between my fingers, but I wiped them on my jeans and they were clean again.

I looked up.

The storm cloud—that powerful temptress—was already heading off to rain somewhere else, leaving the sky endless and bright and renewed blue. Lifting my face to the sun, I felt like I’d swallowed some of it, a warmth that spread from within. Light can quench your thirst much more effectively than water, you know. I closed my eyes to soak it up.

And this is how it is when you tell me you love me.

__________________

When he was with her, the music never stopped.

* * * * *

joelle-writing

SecretSam

I really like this! Great structure and description! It seemed spiritual. Was this intended?

Azmakna

this is almost there! it's still struggling under unwanted weigh though.

The air chilled, like the earth was being lowered into a bowl of ice. The wind - which moments before, had been warm as a pillow - bit deep. i looked up to see a cloud cover the sun, crossing it out, a black crayon dragged back and forth my an unforgiving child. i'd watched the cloud approach from miles away, black as the smoke from the burning city. The day had been bright, but now it wore a deathly shroud.

__________________
don't count me a blank page
waiting to be written on,
see me as a written page
waiting to be photocopied.

http://www.writersbeat.com

Joelle

Thank you both.
To SecretSam - yes it's supposed to have a spiritual feel.
To Az - I agree; I felt that that paragraph was weighted down and I'll tweak it a little.

__________________

When he was with her, the music never stopped.

* * * * *

joelle-writing

Azmakna

i wouldn't stray too far from what i've written above. i like that first paragraph a lot, but like i said, it felt like i had a thick bog sucking at my shoes as i strolled through it. great imagery and a unique point of view. i'll check the rest our when i can.

__________________
don't count me a blank page
waiting to be written on,
see me as a written page
waiting to be photocopied.

http://www.writersbeat.com

kaytea111

Damn! that is like the best short storie ever! I can so relate.

__________________
http://www.freewebs.com/katelyrics/index.htm

Fossy

Damn, bloody good. That first paragraph was only a (little) boggy, but other than that, just about perfect. Just don't change it tooo much.

__________________
Originally posted by Sam Winchester.
Fossy's good too. She gives good advice.

Joelle

thank you all I changed the first paragraph a tad. This was just something I wrote for my brother yesterday..I often write little things like this to thwart writer's block. But thanks for the feedback

__________________

When he was with her, the music never stopped.

* * * * *

joelle-writing

Azmakna

how does 'slowly' and 'careful hands' modify that first sentence? what does it achieve other than to drag it back. really read that line, without being in love with the sound of the words. tell me what it adds to the line that the line without it doesn't say

__________________
don't count me a blank page
waiting to be written on,
see me as a written page
waiting to be photocopied.

http://www.writersbeat.com

Joelle

^ yes, I know, and I removed "slowly" and "careful hand", as well as a couple other things on the original draft, just not in this thread.

__________________

When he was with her, the music never stopped.

* * * * *

joelle-writing

Azmakna

where is it then? lol... you haven't started another thread already!

__________________
don't count me a blank page
waiting to be written on,
see me as a written page
waiting to be photocopied.

http://www.writersbeat.com

Joelle

No, I just didn't change it here. I will do so now.

__________________

When he was with her, the music never stopped.

* * * * *

joelle-writing

Azmakna

mmmmmm..... razor-toothed teeth... mmmmmmmm....

__________________
don't count me a blank page
waiting to be written on,
see me as a written page
waiting to be photocopied.

http://www.writersbeat.com

Joelle

Yeah. I didn't change that part because I didn't think it was necessary to.

__________________

When he was with her, the music never stopped.

* * * * *

joelle-writing

Cleurun

I enjoyed it. Always come back to this - keep to what feels right. Don't rearrange too often. It kills it. Have a quick look at authors like J.K. Rawlings and see the flaws. Still it worked for her. (smile.)